


in the mornings when i wanna fuck you

by jacksonwhipitmore



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 14:36:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksonwhipitmore/pseuds/jacksonwhipitmore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because they've been in a relationship for four years, doesn't mean they still don't do stupid things like revenge sexting. And, you know, that time Stiles tripped Derek when they were running away from a wendigo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the mornings when i wanna fuck you

**Author's Note:**

> i was eating hello kitty fruit gummies and listening to sex music while writing this because [this picture](http://jacksonwhipitmore.tumblr.com/post/75018051963) still haunts me
> 
> what even is my life at this point

Stiles likes to send Derek pictures of him, home alone and naked, at the most inopportune times. Sometimes he'll be in class (because _Derek is a history teacher_ now, Jesus) or in a staff meeting. Other times, he'll just be eating lunch in the teacher's lounge. And Derek would ignore the messages, except he's still paranoid that if he does, something will be wrong and someone will have been hurt.

So he always ends up stuttering over words or choking on food.

That being said, Derek knows it's probably not a good idea. He knows what it's like to be caught off guard and he knows it's difficult to concentrate every time he opens their text feed to see a picture of Stiles' long fingers wrapped around his cock. Which is also why he does it. (Just because they've been in a relationship for four years, doesn't mean they still don't do stupid things like revenge sexting. And, you know, that time Stiles tripped Derek when they were running away from a wendigo.)

And Derek is _horny_. Has been since he woke up to find the spot next to him on the bed was empty and cold and he remembered Stiles had an early study session with a group of people from one of his classes. Derek teaches at Beacon Hills High, so he's out for the day. President's Day or something; he'd never been able to keep track. But BHU has classes today still and Derek knows Stiles is in his math class right now, bored out of his mind.

It doesn't really help that he has every single picture Stiles has ever sent to him saved on his phone and he can't stop himself from going through them every ten minutes. 

Erica had texted him earlier, asking if he wanted to come over for a beer with her and Boyd around the time it is now, but he's already walking back to their bedroom, pushing at the waistband of his boxers and he just wishes Stiles was actually here.

He doesn't know how to do this. Stiles is the only one who sends pictures. Derek just texts him back what he wants to do to him so that Stiles can get off, because he's usually in school and he can't exactly whip it out at his desk or on the lounge's couch. He maybes takes his time fluffing up the pillows and he feels so _stupid_. It's not like Stiles hasn't seen his dick a million times, so he doesn't know why he's so nervous. Heart pounding (for a dumb, dumb reason), he dribbles a good amount of lube into one hand and, when he climbs onto the bed, leans against the pillows. He closes his eyes, breathes deeply and slowly.

Still unsure if he's going to go through with this, he just holds his cock in his hand. He's been half-hard all morning and it only takes a few tugs for him get completely erect. It's not -- He's obviously masturbated before. But he actually hasn't had to do it for _himself_ in so long that it's weird, being alone in the room without Stiles watching or instructing him on what to do. So he thinks back to the other night when they were both too exhausted to actually do anything, so they did just that: told each other what to do to get them off.

He hears Stiles voice telling him to sweep his thumb across the head and he does, smearing the precome around it. He bites his lip at the feeling and desperately wishes it was Stiles' hand, Stiles' _mouth_. He creates a tight hole with his hand and bucks up into it, hears the faint whisper of Stiles telling him to play with his nipple so he does that, too, brings his other hand up to let his fingers run across one, feeling it harden underneath the cloth of his shirt. They're not really sensitive underneath the pads of his own fingers, but if he imagines hard enough, he can pretend it's Stiles gently pinching them. It sends sharp zaps of pleasure down his spine and settles at the bottom of his gut.

He moves his other hand away from his cock and barely presses a slicked finger into his hole. He moves his wrist around, wiggles his finger, until it's a good enough angle to push in all the way. When he pulls it back out, he adds a second finger and finds his breath hitching the way it always does. He abandons his nipples in favor of his cock, vaguely aware that he's probably supposed to take a picture now. He allows himself a few tugs, shifts his hips until his fingers brush against his prostate. He squeezes his eyes shut and just sends a prayer that maybe Stiles will get out of class early, will come home and find him like this.

Imagines Stiles walking into the bedroom and swearing quietly at the sight of Derek on their bed, legs spread as wide as they'll go with his fingers pumping in and out, other hand gripping his cock, _leaking_ precome onto his fingers, down his length.

He mutters a soft, "fuck," when he feels his orgasm building. He slips his fingers out of his hole and grabs for a few tissues, wiping his hands off. Applies a bit of hand sanitizer because he's not too keen on touching his phone after he's just fingered himself.

He hesitates when he brings up the camera app. It just looks so... _Porny_ , the way his cock is just resting against his fingers. A small bead of come is making it's way down the head of his cock and he bites his lip again. Instead of snapping a picture of himself like that, Derek pushes his dick against his stomach and pulls his white t-shirt down over it. Immediately, a couple of wet spots begin to form where the material is sitting. With it being pulled so tight against his skin, you don't even have to squint to see his cock through the shirt.

Angling the camera down his body, he snaps a lot of pictures and moves to look at them. A couple of them are blurry, some just badly angled, and he's almost about to put his phone down and just go back to masturbating when he swipes to the next one. It's not great -- Derek had been hoping to get his face in it. But you _can_ see the bottom of his chin, covered in the thick stubble that Stiles refuses to let him shave, and the picture got his entire torso and the tops of his thighs, so he taps at the screen until it opens in his and Stiles' mile-long conversation.

As soon as he presses "send," he sets the phone back on the bed and reaches for the lube again. Not even a full minute later, he's got three fingers buried inside of himself and his phone is lighting up with Stiles' message.

**_On my way. Don't come!_ **

**Author's Note:**

> title from "i could fuck you all the time (ft. natasha mosley)" by jeremih
> 
> there might be a sequel to this + "we can make it through the night", but i'm not going to guarantee it in case i don't finish them. although, i do think one day i might write a fic where derek just worships his own body because _someone_ has to (it might as well be himself).
> 
> p.s. i'm on [tumblr](http://jacksonwhipitmore.tumblr.com) if you want to say hi!


End file.
